I hate the way you say 'I love you'
by Sketchy Cannabis
Summary: It's been five years since Hogwarts held their first annual Witch's & Wizard's Magic Fair. On that day, Harry's world changed, from graduating as a real Wizard, to losing Hermione to Ron, and finding that his worst enemy may not be all that scary.
1. Whatever you became

**Disclaimer**: I don't own Harry Potter, or Draco, or anything. Though I would take Draco if he was offered to me. xD;; No money's being made, and yadda-yadda. Don't call anyone, 'cause I will be forced to spork you. xX;  
  
**Title**: I hate the way you say 'I love you'  
  
**Rating**: R  
  
**Warnings**: Slash/Lemon/Boy on Boy ; Whatever you want to call it, I got's it.  
  
**Pairing**: Draco & Harry  
  
**Summary**: It's been five years since Hogwarts held their first annual Witch's & Wizard's Magic Fair. On that day, Harry's world changed, from graduating as a real Wizard, to losing Hermione to Ron, and finding that his worst enemy may not be all that scary. Now though, he's living on his own, alone from the wizarding world. But when people start dying _Gasp!_ Harry's brought into the plot... As well as his enemy.

**Story**:

The night went as it always had for Harry Potter. He'd go to sleep late, staying up to watch the muggle news and paid advertisements until at least two am. Then he'd meander around the kitchen, wondering if he should go to sleep. And then he'd finally make it to the room, and stare at the bed. He played his part in his evening routine though, and slowly laid in the bed, on top of the covers, one window cracked for fresh air. Then he'd drift; slowly, not wanting to. For he knew that then the dream would come.  
  
A few nights, he'd be spared. On those, he woke refreshed, and wondering. What had he done differently? Alas – he never could figure out what had changed the formation of his dream. But tonight was not a good night. For as his mind sunk deeper into sleep, the movie played again in his lost thoughts.  
  
The Magic Fair had been the best thing to happen to him; or so he thought, in his young innocence. Though he knew in his future state that he never could've imagined how his life would spiral downward from then on. Him and Hermione had been dating for a while then. He couldn't remember then how they'd ended up together. But they had, and they were content. At least he thought.  
  
The day of the fair, he'd been running back to grab his – scarf? - yes – his scarf. And that's where he'd spotted them. In the crook of a hallway, he'd seen them. Ron, Hermione. He could hear their whispers, the flash of a buttermilk coloured leg wrapped around him.  
  
In an odd sense, that hadn't shocked him. He'd taken it well. He'd walked off, thinking over and over again. The dark corner – the stark white of her leg. The same leg that had been wrapped around _him_ just a night ago. In his dream, he walked around the stalls again, barely remembering the magic that had been laid out, demonstrated. He'd barely noticed as Ginny flirted with Neville – he barely noticed anything. And then the fair had ended. He'd walked past the end of it, and he was walking into the courtyard.  
  
That's where he saw him. The thing that shocked him. Malfoy. Draco Malfoy, sitting, hunched in a small ball, crying. Crying? Yes. He remembered. All too well, he remembered. And he could only wish he hadn't remembered.  
  
And that's where he'd awake. Covered in sweat, a hard on to boot, and tears welling in his eyes. How could he help it? He'd done what he'd thought right, and, well – apparently that'd been the wrong thing to do.  
  
This particular night was no different from the others, in the main sense. He awoke, cold with sweat, a hard on, and tears. Tonight though – something was a little different. He felt worse then he had the other nights. Most of them, he could lay back down, breathe calmly, and his body would stop trembling. But not tonight. He sat up in the bed, the sheets tumbled around his legs as he closed his eyes. His palms were pushed back by the pillows, a street lamp casting faint shadows through the window.   
  
Trying to calm his jittery muscles, he swung his legs over the edge of the bed, unsteady still, and shaking lightly. He felt sick to his stomach, and lo and behold, emptied whatever contents it'd contained right there onto the carpet. His head resting between his hands, elbows propped on his knees, he sat, a shudder coursing through him. Draco, there was something wrong? His mind was frantic, running about. Draco? No – Malfoy. Harry reminded himself sternly as he swallowed, a sour taste filling his mouth.  
  
God, he didn't want to deal with this right now. Getting up, he stumbled into the bathroom, balancing himself on the sink. With one hand on each side, his body arched as he leaned heavily, face lifting to look up into the mirror. A five o'clock shadow had etched itself across his face as he had blatantly ignored it for the past day or two. His green eyes had dulled, though the good ol' spark still shone in their depths. His scar remained – a lone reminder of the older, if not better, days.  
  
Harry couldn't figure out how he'd come to be what he was. 23, living alone, with a cat, in a house, out in the middle of nowhere. Well, a small town, but nowhere none-the-less. Maybe it was a pure escape. He knew that was plausible. He had, after all, cut off all attention to his wizard lines. He didn't keep an owl anymore, not after Hedwig had passed the year before. His wand was locked away in Gringots with his money and old books. He'd stuffed everything that even remotely reminded him of his old life into that vault, and locked it.  
  
That meant shutting off many memories he was tempted to remember. When he smelt the roses in the morning after his coffee, reading the paper, too lazy to change into something other then a pair of raggedy boxers, he remembered Hermione. The way she'd laid in his bed, in his arms. Her hair, the softness of it, the silk sheets, the morning rising upon them... And then he'd down his coffee, no longer savoring the moment. Or when he'd wash the dishes – and he'd think of Ron. When they'd messed with his mother's spell on the dishes, and it'd tried to clean them. And after those morning thoughts, everything would come flooding back. Things that he didn't want to remember. So he'd drop the dishes, and read a book – surf the internet (a wonderful thing) or just sit and stare at the cherry tree outside his window.  
  
But he was here now. Alone in his house, with Cat twirling around his ankles, a pile of vomit on his bedroom floor, and the dawn arriving slowly. Rubbing his forehead, he scrounged through the cabinet, finding some ibuprofen, and downed three of them. Shifting his hand to massage his neck for a brief second, he removed his other hand from the sink counter. His legs felt a little steadier now, though he wasn't ready to trust them. Meowing at Cat as he always did, he pushed the little beast out of the bathroom while he took a quick piss. Damn cat.  
  
After he'd finished his business, he sought out his coffee machine, and started that. This was his morning, and that was all he'd known for the past two years. Things went about normal from then on, as he watched the dawn from a comfortable spot on his sofa – a cup of coffee in his hand, and a purring fluff ball in his lap.  
  
And that's when it hit him.  
  
He was going no where. There really was no reason for him to exist. For the past two years, he'd woke up from nightmares, thrown up at random intervals, made his coffee, and watched his days pass him by. Two full years he'd wasted... And there was nothing he could do about it. And in this spiral of downward emotions, he didn't notice the light, curious knock at first. But then it sounded again, and he caught it. Well, Cat caught it. And at that, the rather large black and white tuxedo cat perked his ears up, looking towards the door.  
  
Standing up abruptly, Harry worried. Nobody in their right mind would be up this early – the sun had barely risen! Pacing for a quick second, he looked at Cat, who was busy composing himself in a different spot on the sofa. He didn't look exactly pleased by Harry's decision to move, and pounded that idea home with a loud meow. Harry rolled his eyes, looking again to the door as another knock sounded again – this time a little louder, the person getting a bit more confident.  
  
Swallowing hard, Harry took a step towards the door – and another. His hand hovered over the knob, his throat seemingly dryer then he'd thought it could get. Who could be here? Pushing his thoughts aside, he decided that it was most likely just a tourist who was lost, or something of that sort.  
  
Pulling the door open a little too quick, he had the last fading thought that he really should keep his wand around, just in case. But this thought was pushed aside as he choked out, his eyes wide. "Hermione?"

Yet again, he blinked. Then again, just to be sure. She hadn't moved, but that didn't mean anything in Harry's book. Reaching out, he touched her cheek lightly, and she only stood there, silent still – he brown eyes looking at him. Finally he snapped out of it as she started, "Harry – let the pregnant woman sit." Her brow was raised, and as Harry's vision fell down, he was surprised to see she was pregnant – very much indeed. Pushing down his slight twinge of anger, he replied indignantly.  
  
"And what if this pregnant woman was inclined to explain a few things? A few rather important things?" The anger in his voice was soon replaced by a cracking hint of despair. The whole world of wizards and witches had just been pushed right onto his doorstop at – 6 am? Oh God, he thought. This was going to be a bad day.  
  
"I'll explain as much as I feel like. Now if you don't move, I'm going to fall over dead, and Ron will be after you." Her look was that of genuine weariness, and as such, Harry sighed, opening the door. As she waddled – yes – waddled – past Harry, she added, "You look like shit."  
  
Harry's mouth remained open, working for a retort. It'd been a while since he'd seen Hermione – a good four or five years. But could she of really changed that much? Or was it just the angry pregnancy speaking for her? And Ron? That was Ron's kid? Covering his forehead with one hand, he swung the door shut, his hand falling down to rest on his eyes. Maybe if he kept thinking this was a dream, he'd wake up, and see that the only thing sitting on his couch was an agitated, if not amused, fat cat.  
  
But no. He opened his eyes, and there was Hermione. Her hair was cropped straight across, just below her shoulders. The pregnancy had seemingly only affected her stomach, as the rest of her remained just as petite at before. Standing at her all time height of 5 feet, 6 inches, she'd never been one for height. Though into the 6th year, she'd made up for that greatly with her personality. Sure, she still knew it all, but at least she had some attitude packed in with her. That one smack to Draco's ego hadn't been the last attempt she'd made at defending herself for once.  
  
Then the thing with Ron had cut them apart. And here she was. Sitting in his living room. Petting his cat. Staring at him. Waiting.  
  
"What?" He blurted, looking exasperated.  
  
"Aren't you going to sit?" She asked, her voice the ultimate calm.  
  
"How-" He stuttered, his anger rising again. He hadn't felt this much pain and anger since... Since, well, since Draco. But he couldn't think of that now. Finally straightening out his apparently useless mouth, he nearly shouted at her. "How am I supposed to take this? The woman I damn near worshipped for years shows up on my doorstop, pregnant with the child of a man who she cheated on me with! And, to top it off – he was my friend! My best friend! And-and-and-" He dropped then, into the old chair that had been pushed off to the side of the door. Harry's hand came up then, covering his eyes, his other hand shaking slightly as it rested on his leg.  
  
The sun that filtered through the window fell scattered on the two distinctly different figures. One – the woman – full of life – hers and another. She was holding herself proud, intelligence and joy showing in her eyes, even at a time such as then. She held herself with dignity that was learned through the hard and good times of life. And the man, crumpled – a broken one at that. Weighted down by the memories that he'd chose to ignore for the past two years. Two years of sorrow had been drawn onto his face, proved by the lines that marred around his eyes.  
  
"Harry..." Hermione's patient words sent his emotions tumbling again. She'd used that tone other times – at more personal moments... And that just stung more.  
  
"Don't use that tone with me, Hermione. I'm not falling for your feminine wiles again. Not this time around." The last bit was added after a brief stutter. He'd fell last time, hard, too. And he'd learned something from it, fortunately. Though Hermione must've had something on him, because after her rather sharp look, he calmed down a bit. Just a bit though, for he was still shaking lightly.  
  
"Harry." Hermione was beginning to lose her patience. This was the man who she'd learnt to respect through their years at Hogwarts, who she'd sat in the rain for hours on end, waiting for him to catch the snitch, for who she'd risked her life for, and so many other things. And there he was. Sitting in a ragged pair of boxers, looking at her with more anger then she could ever recall. "Harry, listen to me."  
  
A retort immediately flew up to the top of his mouth, but he bit back, deciding he might as well hear her out. His body still felt like jell-o from the rush of everything. It was like learning about the wizarding world all over again. And he didn't think he could put into words the betrayal he felt after all that time.  
  
"Harry..." Her voice fell off towards the end of his name, her eyes not meeting his vision. Now she had one arm resting on her stomach, one hand lazily scratching Cat, who was purring like a motor in the early frost. "Snape's dead." She didn't know how else to put it. She couldn't be any blunter then that, and, if she figured correctly, beating around the bush wasn't what Harry was looking for at the moment.  
  
Green eyes snapped up, locking onto the brown ones that still wouldn't look at him. "What?" His voice was hoarse. Snape – the one who'd gone through so much for the Order, the one who kept him after class, the one who taught him not to doubt potions, the one who told him more about his parents then anyone else ever had... Was dead? That couldn't be right. "He-he can't be. There's no way." Hermione only nodded, her shoulders falling in slightly. "Who? Who? Why? When? Where? Why wasn't I told? Why didn't anyone stop them? What's wrong with the world!?" He was yelling by the last one. Over the years Snape had become sort of like a replacement Sirius. He was no where near as kind, but, he had a rough side that made his affection something to be taken with happiness and a full heart. He was the closest thing to family he'd had in the last few years he'd been at Hogwarts... Even if they hadn't always agreed.  
  
His legs no longer felt like they'd collapse. Pure rage had staggered through his body as he jolted up, swinging around, his foul language showing up as he paced the room. Though when he stopped in front of the window, he only looked out it, the anger in him boiling in the pit of his stomach. His hand was against the glass, his fingers spread out evenly. The reflection was flat and unmoving as his forehead hit the cool glass. His eyes were closed as he listened to Hermione.  
  
"We don't know who. Why is obvious. He knew things. He was reporting back. It was a week ago. I found him... I found him in his study. And you weren't told because nobody knew where you'd wandered off to. And nobody was there to stop them. The magic trails left around the room showed Snape put up quite a fight... But he lost in the end. Horribly... As for the world..." She only shrugged, leaving her sentence hanging in the air. By then, Harry's body was shaking with rage.  
  
"You found me." His words were calm, which in a way, scared Hermione.  
  
"No. He did." Her words were light, and airy. After they sunk in, Harry turned around slowly. Hermione's eyes were still locked on Cat, who now looked at Harry with a gaze of amusement, and pure content.  
  
"... He's a cat." Harry's confusion was only temporary, as before him, Cat, his lovely tuxedo coat, and his staring green eyes, melted away. The form that replaced cat shook his head a bit, falling off the sofa with a solid thud. "Oh God." The day just got better and better.  
  
"You can just call me Dannie." Came a deep voice. "God's much too impersonal." The figure was a black male, topping six feet at least. Harry blinked. Great. Now he had a naked random guy sitting in his living room, who he'd thought until then was his pet. Alongside that, he had Hermione. His ex, who was pregnant with his best friend's child. This was not a good day for Harry Potter. And, to top it off, Snape was dead. He groaned, leaning against the window.  
  
Dannie coughed lightly, holding a pillow over himself. "This may seem odd," he started, "But after all that time naked and furry, I really would like some clothing." His British accent hadn't faded even an inch as he spoke. Hermione chuckled, finding this part quite comical. And if Harry wasn't having the shittiest day in the world – he'd probably agree on that note.  
  
"You've lived here for just as long as I have. Go get a robe, something. Anything." Harry's hand rested over his eyes then. He felt a headache coming on. "And grab the ibuprofen."

**End Chapter 1**

****

So, how was it? This is my first attempt after my horrible other fic, which I really do hate with a passion. xX; I hope this one works out better! Where should the story go? Dun, dun, dun!


	2. Blame it on my fame

Chapter Two -- Blame it on my fame  
  
Harry was sitting back in the chair again. By now, the morning sun had clouded into a dull overcast manner. Harry wasn't surprised. This was how things went in the little suburb. In all reality, he was saddened by the fact that he'd moved into a place much like the Dursley's had owned, prior to them moving. But Harry had never kept up on them.  
  
Surprisingly, everyone seemed to be taking this quite well. Hermione sat on the couch, drinking some water ("Harry – that coffee isn't doing you any good!") and watching Dannie get used to the place.  
  
"It's odd, you know. Being so little, and suddenly everything's like... tiny." Picking up a picture frame, he observed the woman and man in it. After a moment, he set it back down, looking over to Harry who was watching him.  
  
"So you all made this huge effort to just tell me Snape was dead?" The words seemed unreal when he spoke them. It was still sinking in that Snape was indeed, dead. And from the sounds of it, it wasn't all that pleasant of a death. Swallowing down the last swig of coffee, he looked up at Hermione's voice.  
  
"Yes – and no." She started, though interrupted by Dannie.  
  
"It gets better, mate." He added, absolutely chipper with the whole setting now. Flopping down on the couch next to Hermione, his arms stretched out across the back, as he rearranged the shirt and pants he'd changed in to. They were a little tight, but he wasn't complaining. As he'd stated before, the pillow just wasn't his colour.  
  
"Shush, you." Hermione scolded lightly before looking back up to Harry. "Well, what we're doing this for, is because – well, because we need help. Snape had something, Harry. Something about... Voldemort returning." She blushed slightly as Dannie cringed, and Harry's eyes raised up to meet hers. "Well, not him per say. Oh bollucks. His power. His beliefs. We've no clue as to who's behind it all, but it's there, Harry. And we need all grown wizards help. And you're one of the better out there... Even if you're a whiney prat."  
  
Harry looked up then sharply. His gaze had dropped, to watch his fingers twirl around the outside of the coffee cup that sat empty in his lap. But now, his vision was focused on Hermione. "I don't know anything that's been going on in the wizard world, Hermione." His words were slow, chosen as he went. He didn't want to blow up on her again. The dream like feeling of this whole predicament hadn't left him totally, and he was now just trying to figure things out, instead of yelling about them.  
  
Not to mention the fact that Draco had immediately sprung to mind.  
  
Bloody hell, he thought to himself, pushing the thoughts aside. Hermione's long sigh brought his attention back to the present.  
  
"You've potential, mate." Was all Dannie said, before a razor like glare from Hermione stopped him short. Clearing his throat, he stood up. "Coffee, anyone?" With the silence that returned his question, he looked down, and side-stepped outside of the room, grumbling to himself. "Being a cat, I got more respect than that..."  
  
Harry sighed, and looked to Hermione. Her pleading gaze hadn't left her features as she said, "Please, Harry. Just come back and help us. Just some... I mean, we all knew something was up when his power dropped out just like that, with no explanation. He was waiting Harry... Something's waiting. And the first thing they're going to come after is you." Her words lead off towards the end, the soft issue of his name making him almost twitch. God damn her! Damn her to hell for knowing his buttons!  
  
The indefinable sound which he made as he jumped up left Hermione shocked, and surprised. And then he was out the door, walking out in the countryside. And all she could do was sigh. "Whiney prat." She grumbled to herself.  
  
"So no one wants coffee.?" Dannie stepped out, one cup in each hand. Looking to the door that was slightly ajar, the empty room, and Hermione, he set down the cups on the counter, and started out the door. "Eh, Potter. What up, mate! It's not a bloody marathon!" Huffing and puffing, Dannie came up, and put his hand on Harry's shoulder, only to have it pushed off. "Okay then," Dannie muttered to himself, bent at the waist, his palms flat on his legs. Taking a deeper breath in, he watched as Harry kept walking, and finally just stopped.  
  
They'd wound up in a field – the grass just below the knee. The grass was a faded green colour, corresponding with the new found summer season. Soon the grass would change to a brown, hay like colour, and die with the first frost. But Harry wasn't looking at the grass's life span. Now he was standing about ten feet in front of Dannie, watching the sea of khaki coloured branches sway in the morning breeze. The sky overhead was overcast, the distant clouds posing no threat to rain for the time being.  
  
His thoughts were chasing one another around and around – thoroughly confusing Harry's line of thought. Be a wizard again? Be the Boy Who Lived once again? He sighed, his fists tightening at his sides. That all seemed like such a long ago dream, one that he'd woke from, thought about, and forgotten. He was as good as Muggle these days.  
  
Brushing the hair back from his eyes as he watched the grass swing slightly, bending over, his shoulders dropped slightly. What if he had to face... Draco? A faint trace of unease crept through him. Harry's eyes closed then, the sharp memory etching it's way across his shut eyelids.

.

"... Draco?" He'd approached him, the boy – no – man – he corrected himself, who had sat there crying while Harry debated. His thoughts hadn't been straight as he'd moved closer.   
  
"Leave me be, Potter." The snarl that accompanied the words should've scared him off. But they hadn't. And he'd stepped closer. He couldn't bear to see anyone in pain, crying, when he thought it possible to do something. Though whatever could Harry do for this one enemy? The enemy that had haunted him from the very first day of his life at Hogwarts?  
  
It was unreal, seeing him cry. It made _him_ real. It made Draco no longer someone who was poised on a pedestal above him, looking down. It brought him back to earth, to be an equal with the rest of them. And then his arm was around him, and Draco had leaned in.  
  
Or had he only imagined that? He couldn't quite recall. Though he could recall that his robe was black, as was Draco's. And his hair was still stark white, painted against the black canvas. And the shudders had calmed, and his arms had tightened, and Draco had given in, and Harry had liked it, and then Draco's lips had been against his, and he hadn't realized he'd even moved, and -

.

"Potter?" Dannie's voice broke through the memory. Harry's eyes snapped open as he turned around.  
  
"When do we leave?" Harry's voice foretold more emotion than Dannie had expected, and he merely blinked. All the while back, Harry kept thinking. Hermione had been more then happy, and chit-chatted to him the whole way back to inner London. She'd been relieved to see him and Dannie walk back through the door, if not surprised. Though she didn't ask for his reasoning. Instead, she made little meaningless talk about his former class... Though Harry knew why he was doing this. He was doing this for two reasons, at least he liked to think. Reason one was obvious. Someone had killed Snape. They had to be settled. And then there was Draco...  
  
He was willing to give up more than the world if it meant he could hold him just once more, to see that side of him. If that side even existed... If.

.

**A/N**: Well, thank you to the one reviewer. **Rebel**, I luff you. - -Gives cookie and pets.- Anyways, I figure I'll prolly get another chapter up by tomorrow... I just have this huge urge to write and write... xx; And, yeah. Harry's going to be a whiney prat for the first part, so, get used to it. He'll slowly get more... Nice xD;;

**Rebel**: I luff you. This one's for you. xD;;

**Chewy**: This's meh editor. xD; She finds little stupid mistakes I miss while I'm busy typing and eating a hot cookie [**Note:** That's not a good idea... xX'] Yeah. She's helping with research from the books, and also with plot line and twists. Lurve her oO;;

**Chapter Titles**: The chapter titles are from Cold's 'Whatever you Became' I'm not sure if it fits this story yet, but it's a good song. xD;

Luff all my non-existant readers. xD;;

... **Vive la France!**


	3. Always away from you

Chapter 3 -- Always away from you  
  
Draco sighed heavily, laying in the empty bed. The sheets beside him were still messy, the pillow still holding the indent of another's head. And that other was now in the shower, still yelling at him. He closed his eyes.  
  
"- and if you hadn't been such an ass about this all, daddy would've let us have the boat or whatever it's called. I don't see why you two are always bickering, it does you no good." The woman stepped out from behind the door, steam rolling out behind here. Water still ran down her, and Draco had to admit that her presence in his bed was more then enough for putting up with her father.   
  
"Darling, he's the one who starts it. And what good is a boat? You don't even like water." He was now propped up on his elbow, one arm lounging lazily on his side. "Come back to bed, and I'll make it up to you." He gave a small smirk.  
  
Her green eyes flickered back to him, and she shook her hair, water droplets spraying. Letting the towel fall, she moved over onto the bed like he'd suggested. Laying cuddled up to him, she mumbled into his chest, her kisses following the words. "That's not the point."  
  
Green Eyes, he thought listlessly to himself, falling back against the pillows as she crawled over him. Green... His brow furrowed lightly as he tried to remember where he kept getting that thought from. His slight noise of dismissal was soon turned into a gasp though as Lindsey slid a hand under the blankets.  
  
Screw green eyes. He had this green eyed, blonde beauty here. Green Eyes was years ago, and long gone... or so he thought.  
  
.  
  
Harry laid in the dark. He was staying with Dannie, and currently laying in the dark of night. The clock next to him ticked merrily – that is until Harry picked it up and threw it against the wall. Dannie didn't rouse, or at least make a move towards the room, because the door remained closed. And now Harry sat, propped up on his elbow. Two am. Snape had always said lonely people loved the night. And that nightmares loved lonely people. Harry growled lowly. Everything came back to Snape, Sirius, Draco, Ron, Hermione, Hogwarts. His entire life had circled around that, and he hated it. Hated it with a passion... And now..? Now he'd been dragged right back into it. Rubbing his forehead, he leaned back, the clock laying on the other side of the room now.  
  
And the memories! The stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid memories... So he lay there, thinking over and over about how stupid things just really were, pitying himself, wallowing in it. Though in his mind, he had all reason to believe that he was in the right. Things had always been plotted against him in fate, and he'd always needed to keep an upper hand... Sometimes he wished he could just roll over and die.  
  
But... It seemed fame wasn't everything. Groaning one last time, he squeezed his eyes closed. Tomorrow, they were going to Diagon Alley. Well, he was. Dannie would probably go to, knowing him. He'd been ecstatic to get back into the city, and had been bouncing off the walls practically since they first stepped foot into the house.  
  
And so on that note, Harry drifted... and fell asleep. Or as asleep as one with such heave thoughts could get.  
  
.  
  
"Potter!" Draco's voice had been surprised. Hell, Harry had been surprised. In the back of his mind, he nodded to himself in confirmation. He'd made the move. He'd kissed Draco.  
  
He'd carried himself into it. Though Draco hadn't stopped him. The rushed kiss before had brought on another, and a few more. Harry let his thoughts drift along that line of thought for a moment... Draco had such wonderful lips – and his hair had been soft, a little grown out, but still.  
  
So Harry had sat, Draco leaning over after Harry had pulled him down. He didn't know where the hell the rush of it all had come from, but he'd suddenly wanted to very badly just... touch Draco. In general, mind you. He wasn't thinking of doing all that they ended up doing that night.  
  
In the years after, he'd blamed it on Hermione. After seeing her and Ron like that – well, he was distraught. He'd naturally wanted something to cling onto. And seeing Draco in a state worse then his had clicked something. Or so he tried to think. He thought it might be something more, but he was Harry Potter. He was the boy who had most of the girls falling over him in his 6th and 7th year, and even after that.   
  
But no. Then Draco was reacting to him. He knew that wasn't a figment of his imagination. Draco had pulled him down, rather roughly, and kissed him. Yes. Draco Malfoy had kissed Harry Potter... And Harry liked it. It was rough, sloppy – and just what he'd needed. And then they'd walked. They'd moved, and they'd left, and they clung to each other for dear life...  
  
.  
  
"No!" Harry bolted awake, the sheets twirled around his legs from his tossing and turning. The sun was shining in the windows, slanting on the end of the bed. The sky was blue, a pure beautiful sea of aqua that danced. And Harry was sick. Sobs came then, from everything combined.  
  
He didn't want to remember what he and Draco had done. He didn't want to remember his parents, or Hermione, or Ron or Draco! Bloody hell, what was he, 18 again? The sobs kept coming though, and his legs were bent, folded in a bit, the sheets preventing him from moving anymore. Harry kept wiping his eyes, his knuckles brushing over the tears, trying to push them away.  
  
But God, it felt good to cry.  
  
Dannie stood in the door, watching Harry cry. His lips were pursed together as he moved and at sat on the edge of the bed. An arm slunk around Harry's shoulder, and Harry leaned in. "We-we didn't mean to..." The choking sobs had stopped, though a few tears had made it past Harry's motions, and now sat on his cheeks, making him even more pitiful. Yes, Harry could be pitiful.  
  
And then he was aware that he was indeed laying pressed up against Dannie. And Dannie's hand patted his shoulder before he pulled away. "Sorry, mate. Maybe if I didn't have a wife." He smiled lightly, though almost seemed intimidated as he pulled the door closed behind him.  
  
Harry blinked as Dannie left. Well, that was unexpected, he thought to himself as he looked at the clothing he'd basically dropped on the floor the previous night. Great. Now Dannie thought Harry was gay. But who didn't these days? Slamming back against the pillow, he wiped his eyes again. That's what he got for crying randomly.  
  
Randomly. Yes. Denial was good. Staring at the ceiling, he sighed, trying to breathe through his nose. "Today, is going to be a long day."  
  
.  
  
Green Eyes. Yes, that's what he'd been thinking of. In the stupor of the after-sex blank all around feeling, he could see the image again. Green Eyes... Glasses? Yes. There'd been glasses... And long, dark eyelashes... Yes... Yawning, Draco rubbed Lindsey's back as he looked out the window. He had to go to Diagon Alley today... He was feeling all sentimental towards Lindsey, and he knew just which chocolates she liked.  
  
Pushing Green Eyes and the mystery that surrounded her, he drifted off to sleep. He'd gone through many women. Some had escaped him. Green Eyes was one of them. Though it wouldn't take long for him to remember... He always did have a rather good memory.  
  
So with a smile on his face, Draco lulled off again, nodding to himself.  
  
A rather good memory indeed.  
  
.  
  
Harry entered the store with caution. The last time he'd been in this store, he'd almost been eaten alive by a pair of socks. Not fun, he noted. "Allo? Anyone in here?"  
  
And then there was Fred and George. One of them, Harry wasn't sure which, one had stepped out first, and the other had soon followed, shoving the other over a bit. "Move it, ye oaf." The one shoving growled, before looking up. His face lots enthusiasm as he realized that it wasn't who he'd been looking for. But soon a confused glance was given. "George – is that Harry?"  
  
"It'd seem so Fred!" Said the other, both of them catching onto excitement.  
  
"Well, that's just-"  
  
"dandy." Cut off George. They were both smiling now. Odd, Harry thought. He'd never remembered just how annoying they could be. But maybe it was just his pissy mood kicking in. He couldn't be sure. "Yeah... So how's business going?" Harry finally asked.   
  
They both grinned and replied at the same time, "Great!"  
  
"Oh, and there's this new store across the way – absolutely divine."  
  
"Right."  
  
Harry just blinked. He'd lost track of which was which already. Shaking his head, he just asked a simple question. "Have either of you seen Dra – I mean Malfoy – as of late?"  
  
At his question, both of the boys pondered for a second, then replied, "Nope."  
  
From there, one of them started speaking quickly. "I'm Fred, Harry, so don't get all confused and a blank look again." Smirking as George chuckled and picked up an exploding chocolate from beside him on a shelf, looking over to the door. As another customer walked in, George slunk off, bellowing out, "Welcome to Weasleys' Wizarding Wheezes! Tricks, pranks, and other things to love and cherish..."  
  
Fred looked back to Harry, shrugging lightly. "Anyway, that new store, ya know? It's got sisters running it! George is drooling over the older one, but I like the younger one. She's much nicer." And at that, Fred blushed. Yes, a full out creeping blush that started at his neck, and hit his cheeks and nose, where only a few freckles remained. "Added bonus, it's a candy shop. Got lots of sweets they hadn't even dreamed of when we was younger." Fred grinned, thinking more so of the girl then of the candy that they sold.  
  
Harry nodded, brow furrowed. Perhaps he'd go check it out... He'd always been fond of wizard candy. "Yeah... Thank's mate. I'll see ya around then." Harry backed out, almost stumbling over a pair of monster slippers, and worked his way out of the shop. He never knew that investing that money into them would start such a fiasco. Shaking his head, he looked down the street. Yes – there was a new shop. And from the looks of it, there was a lot of business going into it at the moment.  
  
Walking down the street, he ignored the glances. A few women stopped to stare, and Harry blushed. It wasn't their attention he was vying for today though. He could only hope his plain jacket and slacks would've made him a bit more... the norm.  
  
It appeared they didn't.  
  
.  
  
Draco looked over the chocolates that the woman had presented. Lindsey was fond of just about anything chocolate, though the hazelnut sprinkled ones were always something she could appreciate. Nodding to the woman, he stated simply, "I'll take a dozen box." After that he continued browsing along the store as she prepared the package. It was easy and simple to have them wrapped too, which saved Draco quite a bit of work. He never was one for wrapping.  
  
Paying the girl his dues, he nodded, a small smile of thanks, and then he was walking towards the door. There was a lot of business today. Most likely for a holiday of some sort that Draco never took care to notice. Yes, that was probably it. Looking down to put the box in his coat pocket, he fumbled a bit, and knocked into someone.  
  
Glancing up as he gave a rough, "Sorry," he stood for a second, blinking. He was no more then two feet out the door, when he was suddenly looking into a pair of green eyes. The long eyelashes were there – the glasses. And the scar, yes. and the light dappling of freckles that had faded with age.  
  
"Draco?" A stuttering voice sounded, and Draco looked down. Potter. Harry Potter was standing there, looking at him. Their even height made no difference for their stare's, though Harry's was probably more so leaning towards scared. Blinking a couple more times, Draco opened his mouth, then closed it without saying anything. And it all came back.  
  
.  
  
He'd been pressing against Harry. They were in some random corridor which Draco would be able to find with his feet only if he was there. But yes – that's it. And those green eyes had been staring up at him, hungry for something. And Draco had wanted to stop that hunger – for that small amount of time. It'd been him pressing at Harry's neck with his lips then, since Harry had become passive.  
  
Draco didn't bother asking anything. He just did it. Maybe that's what ticked him. Maybe. He was used to passive women. Women? Harry was hardly a woman, and that was showing. His fingers danced quite differently across his skin then someone other then Pansy.  
  
But no – he'd been weak. He'd been caught at a moment of despair. In that sense, he'd loved his mother. In that way that he'd yell at her, she'd call him a spoiled brat, and life would move on. But when she died, he had a hole left in him. He thought it odd. But he'd still lost something. She'd been there for him, when she got in her sappy moods. Which wasn't often.  
  
She was gone though, and Potter was there. And he couldn't help himself. Even when Harry had given him the chance to stop, he hadn't. He'd just pressed him harder, moved his hands further along, and shoved their little fling right along.  
  
A fling. That's all it had been.  
  
.  
  
"Watch it, Potter." Draco replied gruffly, moving past Harry before he could see the denial that had sunk into his eyes. Green Eyes... Draco ignored that side of his thoughts and kept walking, at a lazy pace, as though seeing Potter had done nothing more then interrupt his path. And maybe the source of an upset stomach. Though not that good kind when you're looking at someone you'd like to screw randomly. More like that kind when you learn that your parents screw while you're home type. Which wasn't a good thing in Draco's book.  
  
Harry watched Draco go, his mouth still open. He didn't know what to do. He'd never expected to run into him so soon, and if he did – he wasn't expecting such a cold refute. Swallowing back his urge to call out to him, and follow him, tackle him at that – Harry turned away and walked into the candy store. Fine then, he thought to himself. If nothing mattered to Draco about Harry, well, he could equal that. Harry was good at games. He'd cheated a prophecy of death, cheated love, and many things. He could out do Draco.  
  
.  
  
Draco walked into the empty house then, slamming the door behind him. Lindsey wouldn't be back for a while. She'd gone shopping with some of the girl's, and for that, Draco was grateful. Growling to himself, he tossed the box of chocolates onto the table, watching as they slid a bit. As he made his way up to main bedroom, he grumbled to himself in his mind.  
  
Potter was nothing to him, and he knew that. He didn't get butterflies, or swoon over him in any way like that. That one day in the hallway had been an accident. He'd dubbed it that from the beginning, and that's what it would stay as.  
  
Flopping onto the bed, the sheets still rumpled and in a general disarray under him, he let his elbow rest over his eyes. What he needed was just plain sleep. Then maybe he could stop thinking about Green Eyes. For soon his own Green Eyes would be home, and he could screw away, and not have to think about Harry again. Bollucks! Potter, not Harry! Potter, Potter, Potter... These thoughts lined Draco's mind as he finally drifted into sleep.  
  
He might be able to straighten his thoughts out, but his dreams were fresh and anew, awoken by the sight of the one who always starred in them.

**A/N**: So, there's chapter 3. I know, it's kinda jumpy and switches from points to flash back, to present pretty rapidly. I think it's pretty damn easy to follow though. Or at least I hope it is. If it isn't, tell me, and I'll start adding more obvious things. I think from here on, Harry will start getting a little less whiney... - It's time for him to accept reality.

**Nick**: Hehe, here ya go, minion. Content for another day or so?  
**Starting Anew**: Glad you like it !  
**Rebel**: Indeed, you got a cookie. And here's a bit of a longer chapter to make up for that short annoying one. xX;


	4. Sold my life for a song

Chapter Four – Sold My Life For a Song

Harry returned to Dannie's in quite a mood. He had with him some candy, the kind that he knew Hermione favored, for when he finally saw her again, which was supposed to be later tonight. She wanted to get him to the Ministry as soon as possible to start working on who could've started this rise of power again.

So Harry sat, staring at the blank piece of paper before him. He'd written a letter to Draco before. He didn't know if he'd read it. He didn't know whether he cared. But he thought he did. It was a natural thing for Harry to care when it came to Draco. Though anger still filled him at some thoughts. At the pain, when it came rushing back through him.

He started the letter cautiously, treading softly. Draco had always been so tricky to win over.

Draco,

Whether there's nothing left for me with you, I want… I need to see you again. I need to figure this out, with you. Meet me, ten pm, Wednesday, at the clock tower. Please.

Harry

He didn't know what to add, and he didn't think anything else was necessary. Draco was a blunt sort of fellow, and this was as to the point as Harry could get without feeling like a completely emotionless unsure bastard. Though, he did kind of feel like that anyhow.

Sealing up the letter, he coolly addressed it simply to Malfoy. Exactly as he had the time before. It wouldn't be hard to find his current location -- he was a popular sort of fellow in the world. After he'd been cleaned of Dumbledore's death, he'd been in demand. Always in demand, apparently. Harry could only hope that Draco would respond.

Giving it to Dannie's owl was a terrifying experience. He took extra care securing it with the lashes. Half of him wanted to tear it away from the owl, rip it into pieces and never think of Draco Malfoy again. But the bird eventually got away, looking at Harry with an odd look, before winging out gracefully over the rooftops. Harry sighed. It was up to him, now.

"Harry! Come 'ere, quick! We gotta run." Dannie was screaming up the stairs, startling Harry out of his blank gazing out the window.

"Where's the fire?" Harry muttered to himself as he grabbed his jacket, heading downstairs. Dannie was running around, still frantic, grabbing things from all over.

"Bring that candy you bought. Hermione's having her baby." The news bowled Harry over. Well, of course she'd eventually have it, he knew that. But it'd never quite clicked that he'd be around to witness it. "C'mon Harry, move it!"

If this was what Dannie was like… Harry would hate to be around Ron right now. As he got the chocolates, he wondered idly about that. Ron… wonder what it'd be like to see him, after so long. And Snape, he was on his mind too. When could he work on that? Was there any point? He didn't know, but he sat in the car calmly as Dannie drove. Well, tried to drive. He wasn't doing it all that well.

Harry leaned his head against the window as the car wove between traffic like a madman. He was okay with this. If only Dannie would shut up. He sighed, watching the scenery pass by with a detached feeling. The thought that happened most often though was the one involving Draco. Would he come? He could only hope.

Draco studied the tallies on the paper with intense interest. He'd been working it out, and he knew now he could buy the estate that was located off the eastern border of his manor. He didn't really like the people who lived there, muggles to the core. It would be easier to buy them out than to kill them, and Draco really had no taste for blood these days.

The tapping on the window interrupted him. It was late. He hadn't expected an owl; Lindsey was going out of town for a while, and she was muggle born. She would call him, sooner or later. He didn't really mind if she ever did. Just another pretty face, that's all she was. Muggles couldn't be much more, could they? He stood, stretching, watching the impatient owl tap from foot to foot as it eyed him first from one side, then the other. Finally, Draco opened the window, the owl shaking itself off indignantly before calmly stepping in, lifting it's leg up to deliver it's message. Draco grabbed the parchment, holding it in one hand while he fished around for some tidbits for the owl. He finally just pushed a plate towards the owl which had some pieces of a sandwich left on it. Draco then ignored the bird as he flopped down, reading the note to himself.

His stomach did a somersault. He hadn't expected this. He hadn't expected Harry to make a move, to do something. He'd always been so passive. But only in bed, he noted. In his own life, he'd been a tiger, much like Draco. Going for the kill with everything he pursued.

He pursed his lips together, running a hand through his hair as he pulled out a clean sheaf of parchment and wrote on it delicately. 'See you then, Potter.' It was by far the nicest thing he'd written to anyone in his life, though he doubted Potter would realize that. He tied the parchment on, patting the owl absently before it flew off.

So the game started anew. So many years later…

He counted himself lucky -- at least Lindsey was out of town. She would only pry and push for any information she could get. Something had convinced her that Draco was always cheating on her, which was really an unfair accusation. While he did view his flings as nothing and didn't stay straight edged with them, per-se, he did however, stay straight enough when he was more committed. Which Lindsey had wrangled out of him over the months. He thought it more akin to laziness. He didn't want to look for a new woman of any sort, and as such, was still with Lindsey.

After staring blankly at the numbers before him, he stood up, making his way slowly to his bed. He flopped into it, not bothering to disrobe, not bothering to get into the covers. Oh, Harry.

Draco groaned, leaning against Harry, his sweat seeping through his shirt. He was holding Harry tight against him, his fingers kneading into his sides. Draco didn't know he'd left bruises there -- he hadn't talked to Harry after… that.

"Malfoy, I can't breathe." Harry's muttering woke Draco from his dazed after shock feeling. Slowly, he let Harry turn back to face him, looking down into those lovely green eyes, with the delicate, dark lashes. Pools of perfection, he'd thought.

"Sorry." He'd kissed him again, he knew that. He'd wanted to so badly, to feel those lips again. Soft, gentle.

Harry had wrapped himself around him, having readjusting his clothes during the kissing. What was he to say now? Draco Malfoy, he'd let his guard down, and now he was scared. What would happen if this got out? Would Harry tell anyone. His eyes narrowed as he pulled back to look at Harry, cupping one cheek in his palm. "You're not gonna tell anyone, right?" He was whispering.

Harry shook his head in return, his eyes locked on Draco's stormy eyes the whole time. "No." His whisper was hoarse, his voice full. He didn't know what'd happened either… but something had happened, that was for sure. "Draco…" It was odd, to hear Harry address him as that. Maybe that's what broke him.

"No, Potter. We're not meant for this." And he ran, cursing the whole way. Draco didn't want to face Harry, he didn't want to think that maybe, just maybe, there was something there for the boy that lived. He couldn't take that right now. It'd been a weak moment, a very weak moment, he decided. He wasn't going to let that break him. He'd been confused, because of his mother. Yes, his mother, dead, dead, dead… that's what made him do it.

When he fell into bed, he was crying. Something so strange to him. Tears were escaping, yes… but he wasn't sobbing. He just felt… strange. Maybe in some way, he'd known what he missed out on.

But he doubted it.

Harry paced along the hospital corridor, looking up anxiously every time he heard footsteps. It was three am; Hermione had been in labor for hours… so many hours. He'd heard her scream once. He was suddenly quite happy that he wasn't Ron.

Ron… now wasn't that a tangled web. It'd been awkward, but Harry thought he'd dealt with it well. He hadn't killed him, he hadn't yelled. All he'd asked, was "Why?"

"Because I loved her, Harry. More than anything."

And that had been good enough for Harry. Deep down, he wanted Hermione to be happy, he did. She'd fucked him over in some ways, but he did want her to be okay. She was vaguely important to him, and she'd gone through so much for him… Then it was talk of Quidditch, talk of what was going on in the world. Neville and Ginny, they'd gotten together. Harry thought he'd noticed that, but it hadn't mattered at the time. Nothing really had, at that point.

"Harry!" Ron's happy voice rang down the hallway as he raced towards him, grabbing his hand as he strode down the hall to the nursery. "It's a girl, Harry, Hermione always wished it was a girl. She's got beautiful red curls, Harry, she's perfect! Come see, come see!" Dragging Harry behind him, he stopped in front of the nursery window. There was a few babies in there, but he didn't need help picking out Ron's. She was the quiet one with bright red hair, curly and drying as the nurses cleaned her up. "Isn't she beautiful?" Ron sounded vaguely drugged.

"She's wonderful, Ron. Congratulations." Harry smiled lightly under his hand as he watched Ron staring so intently at his first born.

Finally, Ron tore himself away. "C'mon, Hermione wants to see you."

She looked tired, Harry noted. He guessed she had all the right in the world to be. He sure as hell wouldn't want to try giving birth. She gave him a happy smile, cradling her arms as the nurse quietly brought the baby back in for her to hold. "She's fine, 'Mione." The woman smiled, brushing the baby's hair gently. "Congratulations."

"Thank you," she replied softly, rocking her arms gently.

Harry stared at the baby blankly. He held nothing against them, deep in his soul. But on the surface, the anger lingered. But the baby… how could he take it out on such an innocent little baby? He turned away then, leaning against the doorframe as Ron and Hermione ogled their newborn.

"Harry." Hermione's quiet voice woke him from his thoughts. When she had is attention, she continued. "Ron and I decided a while back that we'd like you to be our children's godfather, if you'd like. We know how important Sirius was to you… we'd like to give them the same chances."

Harry didn't know how to respond. Part of him was overjoyed, but another was bitter. If it'd been his child… they'd be asking Ron this, right now, and not him. He sighed, nodding with a faint smile on his face as he looked at the baby girl. "What's her name?" He moved closer to the bed as Ron gently picked her up, setting the baby in Harry's arms. He didn't even have time to protest before the little bundle was laying contently in his arms. She was a quiet baby.

"Her name's Lily… I hope… I hope you don't mind, Harry."

Harry smiled. He could feel the tears coming on.

It was the perfect name.

Draco stumbled over to the old dresser, opening the bottom drawer as he took another drink. He'd become quite fond of wine in the past few years. His mother had always liked it, but he hadn't seen why until he realized just how warm and fuzzy it could make you feel. How it could wrap you up and take you away, or knock you out cold for a few hours, if you'd rather.

With shaking hands, he pulled out the letter from Harry that he'd received so many years ago, discreetly given and read, discreetly kept. Thought about… oh so discreetly. He didn't know why he bothered to take it out; he knew it by heart. He knew the shaky signature at the bottom by heart, he knew the words, the way a couple were misspelled. He knew everything about this letter, inside and out. The one piece of paper that Draco Malfoy had that stated that he was wanted. That he was needed. Now there were two. He'd stashed Harry's latest note there, without thinking about it, when he'd gone to bed. But there was no rest for the wicked, and he was wicked. He knew he was.

Taking another drink, barely registering the burn as it ran down his throat, he put the letter back. Soon he was swinging around the empty room, yelling to empty walls. "This wasn't supposed to happen! That wasn't supposed to happen!" He threw the bottle at the fire place, watching it break and shatter on the wood that had so long ago burnt down. "There weren't supposed to be feelings! No strings, none!" His lanky frame crumpled into the lone chair by the fire as he rubbed his eyes and cried. "It's so easy, so easy with the others… there's so much more there, and I don't have to feel any of it."

But he felt it with Harry, still, after all these years. There'd been something there. Something more than two lonely, broken boys fucking in the hallway of Hogwarts on a dreary day. But Draco didn't want to admit that. He'd have to admit to so much… so much.

But those green eyes! How they haunted him. How open and trustingly they'd stared up at him, how they'd kissed so gently… "No, no, no…" He felt so broken. Maybe it was the wine. Maybe it was stress. He didn't know.

But he knew, that on Wednesday, at 10 o'clock sharp, he'd be at that clock tower. No matter how much pride he thought he had, or dignity he thought he'd lose from it… he knew he'd be there. If only to shoot Potter down and lay this all to rest. If only to get those innocent green eyes out of his mind. Slowly, Draco relaxed, drifting in and out of his drunken stupor as he thought to himself. He'd settle it, on Wednesday. Things would be better. Things would go back to normal. No more Green Eyes… no more late night dreams.

None.

A/N: So, I'm alive. Hm. Maybe I'll keep being inspired and work on this, eh?


End file.
